It's All My Fault . Badfic Version
The challenge is quoted at the end. This is a response to a challenge to tide us over through the re-run holidays, issued by Marie-Claude Danis.
Remember people. This is intentional badfic.
New 1/1/02
It's...it's all my fault. I have big huge elephant tears running down my face. I shoulda known.
Xander and me have always had talking. I know that some people are put off by me, and I'm good with that. Xander's different. He understands me. And I understand him, too much the most.
We talked about making mad passionate love with other peeple. I point it out to him when I see a hottie chick. Hell, sometimes I rent movies like Tomb Raider special cause of an actress, who runs around with no bra on and her huge jugs going 'bouncy-bouncy' all of the time in her tank-top, I know we can both ogle. Not that I have any interest in actually making sweet love with her, well not much, but I'm good with him fantasizing. I know I do.
We was watchin a 'guy' flick about mountain climbing (on this really high up mountatin, where the lead guy and the lead girl are brother and sister and they survive this accident right in the beginning of the film where there daddy dies, but that's not the high mountain, then the girl goes on the high mountain, but gets caught in an accident with two guys and one (the really hot one) is hurt and her brother has to go save her only no one wants to go with him and he's gonna go by himself if he can not get other people that are gonna go up so they can die too just so he can see if his sister is still alive) that I noticed his eyes wasn't glued on the cute chicky, but some of the studs. He tried to laugh it off, but I can be verrrrry assistant. We chatted for hours before I made him to know it was cool. Reallllly, more than cool. It thrilled me sexually. Still does really allot.
Me and hims relationship got deepened and I was thrilled. At least until he. Whenever him was around, Xander was brick hard as a stone. It took me a while to catch on, but when I did we chatted bout it. Well, really I chatted. . loooonnng days. He finally caved when I started weeping. That works like a charm.
He cried at me that he'd been having wet dreams. He looked shamed of himselve when I asked if that was the reason for being waked to being madly passionately maked love to a few times. I cradled him in my loving arms and said to him how much I loved him whole bunches with all my hart. That's the first time I looked to him with and saw the slightest hesitation. It wasn't nothin to worry bout. I told myself it was just too much thinkin.
We went to bed that night with the wonderful and loving sex toys. It was the first time he let me stick stuff lovingly up his ass that was more than a finger. It was also the best making of sweet love that we ever had. He was posed doggy style, muffling his cries of ecstasy by biting into his fist. I know I'm not who he was day-dreaming of, but I was stupid enough to know I could make it better. There where times in the next few weeks when I had to speak to myself to overlook certain things that I know was almost one-sided in our love affair.
Me and him decided I would make a proposition at him cause I was hotter. Plus I won't cry if he's not interested. Xand-man stayed home and got our boudoir ready, just in case, but I just knew he couldn't resist me.
When I opened the front door to our love nest, I was taken aback, a bit. There were scented candles everywhere and a sexual and sensuous aromatic floated through the apartment. The soft tinkling of a piano keys floated up from the brand new, top of the line, hi-fi stereo-CD-turntable system. I felt a surge of thrilling sexual excitement race through me at his romanticism. I invited him in and a sexy leer ran across his face.
The click of the front door closing quitely brought Xander quickly out of the boudoir. I heard a low purring, rumbling, growl coming from behind me at the sexy, sensual site of him. He looked all hard-bodied, sweet, sensual and sexy as hell. The only thing he was wearing where those silky-soft flannel 'jama bottom pants that hung just down over the tip-tops of his feets, and leave no-thing to the imagination in the way they touch and cling to his beautiful cock, balls and ass tightly. His head was hangin lowered so he's lookin up at us shyly and slyly, through the soft, silky, shiny, brown, beautiful, trimmed, rounded, clean, wonderfully scented, overlong, powerfully mesmerizing curls laying splayed evenly across and on his wide majestic forehead.
He slinked around me and with a quick leer over the shoulder, that I had no trouble reading at all, he stroked my Xander. On. his. chin. With. one. finger. It was all veeerrrry dramatic feeling. Xander's head was gently and lovingly lifted up until the eyes met Xander's melting chocolate brown ones. I haven't figured on what he was reading in my Xander's windows to the soul. Whatever it was they were soon swapping spit. I use that term loosely because it looked like they melded and became one being. I didn't even notice it for the red alarm bells that it was.
They didn't see me at first. Once they'd braked for a moment, Xander looked to me with watery, guilty eyes and tears of shame running down his baby bottom smooth cheeks. I shaked my head and smiled gently, sweetly and lovingly, telling him with my expressive eyes to know that it was allright. The guilt didn't go away, but he slipped his tongue into my waiting mouth next. GOD! That boy can kiss great! It's enough to make my knees wobbly and it splains why he is panting harshly and lounging against the boudoir doorframe. I pulled back and gestured for us to move to the boudoir. They both couldn't agreed quick enough.
What followed was a mass confusion of sprawled and tangled long legs, arms, limbs, fingers and soft kissable lips. They each took a turn giving me the most best, loving passionate orgasms before turning on eachother. I had a close up of there next tongue tangling, and was completely ataken aback.
The specialized loving care and extreme passion that Xander poured into that kiss was something I was never able to make him do. He was shacking so hard, crying beautifully, and I'm surprised that he wasn't breathing too heavy that he passed out. Not that he could with the tongue massaging his tonsils lovingly like that. They were sighing and a-kissin and smoothing hands lovingly and passionately all over like they'd never made mad passionate love before.
I sitted back in shock. I never knowed it could be like that. They were so exquisitely, heartbreakingly, passionately beautiful together that I felt like I was walkin in at a private moment. Not that I would've leaved. Not even if you paid me cold hard cash. Well, maybe. Guess it depends on how much cold hard cash we're talkin bout.
Anywho. I sitted back and watched my boyfriend be made mad passionate love to. By someone he was soooo obviously madly. passionately. in. love. with. Who. was. not. me. I know I'm the insanely jealous type. It's something I flaunt about. The searing, heart wrending pain of watching from the outside-lookin-in was ripping through me like shards of molten glass, but I couldn't tear my watery eyes away and I couldn't let them know.
I watched as he tenderly and lovingly lain Xander down on his broad, muscular back. I watched as he used that sinful, softly puffy-lipped mouth to taste my lovers body. And I watched as he slowly made passionate love where only I have stuck anything before him. They moved in the rhythm so perfectly. It astonished and amazed me to think that they've never done this together before, I think.
They lay, quietly crying, panting, playfully nipping and licking at each other's lips after cumming so hard they musta been seeing lights dancing around in front of there eyes. It turned my stomach to watch and made me want to throw up tremendously. When Xander turned his beautiful melted chocolate brown eyes on me, I smiled sweetly and kissed them sweetly both on the temple. This was supposed to be a one-off, but I knew it's far from ended. It never will be. I'm content to let things go as they are, because I love him so madly and passionately. I want him to be thrilled.
I slipped sleekly out of bed this mourning, trying not to awaken them up too aweful much. We'd passed out with Xander in the middle, arms wrapped tightly and lovingly around each of us, and woke up with him curled up around the new addition to our bed where you couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began, and his back to me. They didn't pick up on me leaving.
I have to be the money maker early this mourning. Xander has the day off, lucky dog. I'm not gonna think on it.
Xander came in to piss when I was showered. He gave me a goofy, sleepy, passionate, loving kiss through the shower curten and mumbled something about sleepy. I said to him to go back to bed. There was only a slight crackling in my voice. I don't think he noticed.
When I got dressed up in the boudoir he was layin in my side of the bed, all the way to the edge of the bed, on top of the blankets. He was rapped so tightly in the bedding, you could only see the top of his head. He was also hugging to the opposite side of the bed.
I quietly got myself some breakfast, and had the door quietly open to leave before I remembered the inventory list I'd been checking was on the table next to the couch. I looked in to the boudoir on my way past the doorway.
He was sitting up in the middle of the bed crying silent tears of pain and love, looking at the tuft of hair sticking out from the bedding. He had a very sweetly sad expression on his ruggedly handsome face that I just wanted to lick and kiss away. Apparently I'm not the only one, cause the bedding was lifted and I could barely make out the voice.
"What?"
"I'm disturbed."
"You turning in to a bloody pouf?"
"..."
Sigh. "C'mon in and warm me up with your beefy bod?"
"O..okay."
"Mmm. That's better."
...
"I love you with all my heart and soul, Spike-William the Bloody."
"Stupid bint." Sigh. "I love you, Alexander Levalle Harris, also. C'mere."
I have the image of them, twined together so you can't tell one from the other, in the deepest kiss imaginable that I've ever seen, playing through my head. I know I've missed a some money making opportunities, and losing money is not something I wanna do, but my mind is in such turmoil that it's running all over the place and I can't concentrate on nuthin. There is this intense, life taking, sucking wound kind of pain in my ample breast. I can feel the wind of change blowing and I know it won't be long before I have to let him go like a bird 'cause if I love him truly, madly and deeply then I will and if he cares about me at all he'll come back to me but he won't.
We, me, him and him all went into this saying loudly that it was a one-off thing, and I'm sure we knew it shirley at the time. I don't know what I'll do without him, but he has the right to the kind of loving, mad, passionate, happiness I most obviously cannot give him.
I pushed and cajoled and encouraged and forced him to lovingly explore this part of himself, foolishly knowing that it was something we could share together lovingly. I cannot bring myself to be noble and walk away nobley just yet or any time soon. Even though likely when I do, it won't be an act of selfrightciousness. It will be the when my heart is frozen over, like the coldest winter in the north pole, from being left outside his romantic and passionate, loving heat for too long.
It's all my fault. I have big huge elephant tears running down my face.
Hello, nummies. Here's a fun little thing to tide us over during
Rerun Hell (and/or whenever they decide to give Xander back his
spine).
THE BADFIC-YOUR-OWN-WORK NUMMY CHALLENGE!
Yes yes, you know badfic (not bad fic - badfic). Bad on purpose.
Bad writing, terrible storytelling, stupid plots, and stupider
characters. But this is a badfic challenge with a twist:
You must spoof your own work.
That's right, take your best-known oeuvre and mock the living
goodness out of it. Pepper it with clichés, bad characterisation,
plot holes you could drive Uncle Rory's Belair through. Go ahead,
give angst a bad name, just this once. Or fluff yourself into a
coma. You know you wanna.
The only requirements:
1) Must be mainly Spike/Xander. Any rating.
2) Must be a one-parter only.
3) Let us know which of your fics you're mocking, and where we
can find it.
Obviously this is meant to be fun. Arguments about what
constitutes bad writing can go on forever with very few results,
so let's skip it. Bring on the crack!
Anyone? (I say anyone, but I already know of a few people working
on this. Fun, fun. Try it, you'll see!)
-
Marie-Claude
Originally posted at slashcity. org/ nakedflame/ fic